The Hetalian Chronicles
by SenecaCrane'sBeard
Summary: You know the characters of Hetalia. What about the characters that aren't mentioned? Follow the tales of a guy with a curse, a girl with a leprechaun army, a bi-polar girl with a pet shovel, a pervert with a shipping problem, and a very insane island. You will laugh, you will cry, you will wonder, "Why am I reading this?"
1. Author's Note

**Disclamer: Hetalia belongs to Funimation and its creators, certainly not me.**

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**All of these one-shots will feature Hetalia OC's (own characters) made up by me and my friends. Here's a quick list of all of the characters, just so you don't get confused.**

**Bermuda **(island and triangle) Human name, Erik Ivan Phillips

**Ireland, **human name Brigid O'Donnell

**Aran Islands (Also known as Gingy, or the Republic of Ginger) **human name, Molly McGuffin

**Mexico** Human name, Rosario (Esparanza de La Cruz)

**Bahamas **Human name, Ariella

**Faroe Island **Eva Holmberg

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**Most of these one-shots will be written by me, but some will be written by my friends. I will inform you if they are. Regular Hetalia characters will also be in the stories as well, but usually as side or co-main characters. If you have any questions or one-shot suggestions, I'd love to hear them! Thanks for reading!**


	2. Bermuda's Past

**Spain Leaves Bermuda**

**A/N: As a little past history of Bermuda, here's a little emotional fic of his past. This is all historically accurate, or at least based upon history. Enjoy!**

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Bermuda sat in the tall grass, swatting his arms at a small black bird which was nestled in his long black hair.

Spain was leaning against the stone wall of his house a few feet away, watching Bermuda and smiling. Bermuda was a great little brother. He was helpful and easy to take care of, and after Romano, he was a relief.

"Okay Erik, fun's over. It's getting dark, let's go back inside."

Bermuda looked up at Spain, his eyes shining in the sunset.

"But…but Big Brother…I don't want to go in." He pouted and wrapped his hands around the grass, as though that would stop Spain from getting him to move.

Spain exhaled in exhaustion. Okay, maybe he wasn't always _that _easy to take care of. He walked over to Bermuda, wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled Bermuda off the ground. The bird in Bermuda's hair was knocked to the ground. It tweeted angrily before flying off.

Bermuda yawned and rested his head against Spain's shoulder as they walked through the grass. Suddenly a sharp pain shot up Spain's arm. He quickly put Bermuda on the ground and looked at his shoulder.

There was a long, deep cut, which was bleeding and staining his shirt red.

"That wasn't there just a moment ago…" Spain looked at Bermuda, whose eyes were filling up with tears.

"D-did I do that?" He started shaking his head wildly back and forth. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I-"

"Bermuda stop!"

Bermuda stopped mid-shake and looked up at Spain with wide eyes.

"It's fine. It was probably there before; I must not have noticed it. Now come on, let's get you to bed."

This time, Spain took Bermuda's hand in his, and they walked up the steps together. Bermuda continued to stare up at him, looking worried. Spain smiled reassuringly at him, but when he turned his head away, his smile dropped into a confused frown.

Perhaps it wasn't just an accident. He had started to notice small injuries happening to himself every time he played with Bermuda. A sprained wrist after pushing Bermuda on a swing set. An angry bull coming from out of nowhere, throwing him to the ground and stomping him flat. Okay, so that last one might have been France getting revenge, but there were other cases. And just now. They had been completely alone!

Spain looked at his bleeding shoulder, then down at Bermuda who was singing under his breath.

"_Marukaite Chikyuu, Marukaite Chikyuu, Marukaite Chikyuu boku wa Bermuda!_"

Spain smiled sadly. Maybe it wasn't the smartest or the kindest thing to do, but he hated all of these injuries, and he needed to get all the other countries off of his back…

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"You're giving him, to _me_?"

Spain sighed. He already hated this conversation. "Yes. Do you want him or not?"

"This is a trick, isn't it? Is he as bad as Romano or something? No wait, nobody could be as bad as Romano…but still, you've got to be lying to me. It's a trick!" England jumped to his feet and pointed his finger angrily at Spain's face. Spain pushed England's hand away and crossed his arms in front of him.

"I'm not lying to you England. Listen, Bermuda's a really good kid, but I don't have enough time on my hand to take care of him. I'm only offering this once. Should I just leave?" He made to get up.

"No, no, no! Of course I want him!"

"Honhonhon~! Did I hear someone say Bermuda?" France's head peeked through the doorway, a disturbingly creepy look on his face.

"France, GET OUT!" England and Spain yelled at the same time. England walked over and slammed the door in France's face. Then he turned around, wringing his hands excitedly.

"When can I pick him up?"

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"But I don't want you to leave!"

"Don't worry Bermuda, it won't be for long. You'll be staying with England for a little while." Spain pointed at England, who was up ahead, standing at the end of the road.

Silence.

"Why is he looking at me like that?"

"England has a tendency to be…overenthusiastic sometimes." _Boy, that's an understatement. _Spain thought to himself.

When they reached England, he smiled sweetly at Bermuda and took his hand. England and Spain stared at each other for a short amount of time.

"Well…I guess this is it." Spain said finally.

"Yeah. Thanks Antonio."

Spain nodded curtly, and knelt down so he was face to face with Bermuda, who was looking very confused at the situation. Spain wrapped his arms around Bermuda's shoulders.

"Bye Bermuda," he whispered.

"B-Big Brother…" Bermuda whimpered pitifully.

Spain stood up, and began to walk away, an odd empty feeling in his chest.

"SPAIN DON'T LEAVE ME!" Bermuda cried out, letting go of England and stepping forward to chase after Spain. England threw his arm out and put his hand on top of Bermuda's head to stop him.

Spain turned back around, smiling even though he felt anything but happy.

"I'll be back for you. I promise."

And without another word, he walked out of sight.

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Years later, a grown Bermuda stood at the same spot he did on that hill the last time he saw Spain as a child. He put his head down and closed his eyes, willing himself not to cry. That was the one thing he could never forgive Spain for.

"He never came back…"

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**A/N: I hope you enjoyed the story! Please review/follow if you liked it!**


	3. Ireland gains Independence

**Ireland Gains Independence  
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**A/N: This story was written by my awesome friend whose OC is Ireland. Hope you enjoy it!**

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England sat in his home, calmly sipping tea. This was one of the rare moments when he got to relax. Two of his colonies, Scotland and Wales, who had been freeloading at his house, had recently gone back to their own houses, so now he only had to take care of the Ireland twins. Unlucky for him, they were both rambunctious young people in their late teens. He was not related to any of them, so he often questioned why he took care of them. But right now, they were playing outside. England let out a content sigh.

"England! Arthur! Iggy!" Rocky, who represented a small northern part of Ireland, ran towards the house, flailing his arms.

England looked at Rocky and groaned, "What is it? I'm having my alone time."

"Ireland tripped and cut her leg on a really sharp rock! She's going to bleed to death!" Rocky yelled.

"Rocky, I'm absolutely fine!" A girl with shoulder-length blonde hair, green eyes, and glasses walked in. Blood stained one leg of her pants. "It's just a little cut."

"But-"

England cut him off, setting down his tea and standing up. "Don't worry, I'll fix her leg. She'll be alright." He turned to Ireland. "Come outside and I'll bandage your leg."

Ireland did as he said and walked outside, sitting on the porch as England took a first aid kit out of a cabinet. Sitting down next to her, he asked, "What happened?"

Ireland shrugged. "We were crossing the creek and I slipped. Cut my leg on a sharp rock. It's really not that bad." Ireland rolled up the leg of her pants to reveal a small gash in her leg. "You know, I can bandage it myself."

England shook his head. "How do I know you'll do it right?"

"You'll just have to trust me."

England chuckled, "Look what happened when I trusted you to play in the creek."

••●◊●••

"I am sorry to say this, but I am being forced to raise taxes yet again," England spoke.

Silence filled the small room that the countries of the United Kingdom were meeting in. Scotland, Wales, and the Ireland twins looked on with expressions of disbelief.

"But. . . you raised the taxes only two weeks ago!" Wales looked at England in horror.

Due to economic problems in England, he had to raise the taxes in his colonies. He had done this multiple times in the past month, and the rest of the UK was having trouble paying their share.

"I am very sorry, and-"

"No you aren't!" All of the heads in the room turned to Ireland, who had stood up from her chair. "If you were sorry, then you wouldn't keep raising the taxes!"

England defended, "My country is in economic distress; I'm only-"

"You don't think that _we're_ in economic distress? Half of my people can't pay for their own food, much less for a home and clothes on their backs!" Ireland crossed her arms and stared at her former caretaker in defiance.

"Look, Ireland. I'm only doing this because I have to!"

"Do you even care about us?"

England looked appalled. Ireland's question had caught him by surprise. "Of course I care about you! How could I not?"

Ireland scoffed, "It certainly doesn't seem like it." She paused, uncertain if she really wanted to say what she was about to. Then she thought about how she could traverse the streets of Dublin and see people ravaged by hunger and illness sitting in the middle of the street, begging passerby for money.

"I want independence."

Ireland's words caught the rest of the room by surprise. Scotland, Rocky, and Wales had brought up the topic, but Ireland was always the one to shoot down the idea. It always seemed like she was the happiest under England's rule. Apparently, she had had enough.

When England heard these words, he froze. He had heard those exact words spoken years ago by a certain American. And look how _that_ worked out.

"You can't be serious!" He jumped out of his chair.

Ireland walked up to him, a fierce look in her eyes. Six feet tall and very good at hand-to-hand combat, Ireland was quite a threat when she was angry. And England could tell that she was furious.

"I couldn't be more serious, England. I'm fed up with you treating us like the dirt you walk on," Ireland spat. "So why don't you just give me my independence before someone gets hurt. I don't want to fight you, and I don't want citizens to die in war."

"You should know by now that I'm not one to give up without a fight." England's voice was clipped and cold.

"Well, then I guess we're at war." With that, Ireland turned on her heel and marched out of the room.

••●◊●••

Two opposing armies stood in a sodden clearing, guns armed and ready. On one side was an army in green, led by a tall blonde woman with glasses. The other army was dressed in red and led by a blonde man with very bushy eyebrows. These two armies had fought for a long time, and this was the last battle.

"I didn't want it to come to this!" Ireland yelled over the pouring rain.

"Neither did I," England muttered to himself. Then, he replied to Ireland, "You're the one who started this!"

"I only started this war because you were raising the taxes!"

The two armies stood at rigid attention, waiting for their leaders to give a command to fire. Thunder ripped through the skies. Lightning flashed, illuminating the stern expressions of the two leaders. The wind howled and whipped across the clearing, pelting them with rain.

Then a single gunshot rang out through the storm.

Ireland fell to the ground, clutching her stomach as scarlet blood blossomed across it. A British soldier had decided to break the tension and fire. Which, in turn, caused the Irish to begin to shoot. Soon, total pandemonium had erupted.

Through the chaos, England ran to Ireland and kneeled down beside her. Tears welled up in his eyes and a lump formed in his throat.

"I told you someone would get hurt." Blood stained Ireland's clothing and soaked into the muddy ground beneath her.

"Are you alright?"

Ireland snapped, "I just got shot, what do you think!" When England winced at this, Ireland's tone softened. "But I'll be okay. Countries rarely die from gunshot." Then a question made itself present in her mind. "Why do you care?"

"I care because, even though we're at war, you're still my. . ." England was about to say colony, but he realized, that after this, he couldn't just make her a colony again. ". . .friend."

He stood up and called, "English troops! Retreat!" Both the British and Irish soldiers stopped in confusion, but it was an order, so the British started to flee and the Irish cheered victory.

"Your soldiers will patch you up. You'll be fine," England told her somberly, more to reassure himself than Ireland.

As he turned to walk away, Ireland said, "Wait." England looked at her in confusion.

"Come here." England did as she told him and kneeled beside her once more.

Her voice was weak as she spoke, and it was clear that she was about to pass out. "Arthur, I'm so sorry."

England furrowed his brow in puzzlement. "For what?"

Ireland's voice quivered as she whispered, "For starting this. I just hope you don't hate me after this."

England sniffled, for he was close to tears. "I could never hate you."

"How am I supposed to know that? You and America constantly fight."

England took Ireland's hand and avowed, "Ireland, I will never hate you. I'll always be there for you, no matter what. My only worry is that you won't be able to take care of yourself properly. How am I going to make sure that you don't get yourself into a huge amount of trouble? How am I supposed to make sure that you're alright?" A single tear ran down England's cheek.

Ireland smiled and laughed softly. "You'll just have to trust me."

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**Please Review! **


	4. Gingy- An Idiot's Anguish

**Written by my amazing friend whose OC is Gingy. Enjoy!  
**

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"Everyone around me takes me as an idiot! What am I supposed to do, accept it? No, I won't! I won't let them!" Gingy slammed her fists on the desk, and her hair seemed to ignite as it burst into a brilliant scarlet. She threw her fists down again, this time breaking the desk in half.

"But they won't listen! Maybe I can…..I can beat it into them! Then they'll know! I can break them until they cry out for mercy!" She screamed, and the sound resonated in the area only occupied by herself and the broken desk, alongside a small bed.

Gingy sank to her knees, then the floor, and once again her hair changed. This time it went to an almost crayon-like orange, and her eyes went lime. She began to weep into her hands.

"Why do I do this?" she asked herself through tears. "Why do I act this way?"

In truth Gingy couldn't help herself. As a nation she was supposed to act as the people that populate her do, but she was three islands. Three _different _islands. Yes, the culture was almost the same, and yes, other nations could take it. Japan, for example, had many more islands than she did, and yet he was the sanest of them all. It was just that the small, frail Gingy, in whom was supposed to be the Aran Islands (which are a part of Ireland), had a sort of mental snap when she was young.

Yes, in truth Gingy was not a nation, but a part of one. Being accepted as a nation was one of her deepest desires, and everyone around her knew it. Half of them took her as dim-witted because of this desire, because after all, she was already Ireland's anyways. The other half couldn't see past her mood changes, because anyone as moody as that had to be an idiot, right? She was so many personalities in one body; a peppy, flirtatious and overly-happy lunatic, a blood-thirsty warrior, and a depressed genius. The personality changes came with the morphs of hair and eye colors, and they were both random and almost unstoppable. There was one time that Gingy could keep in her mood swings, however.

The only time she could find a way to hold it was around Italy. More specifically North Italy, the one other nation, in Gingy's mind, who was also treated as an idiot on unfair grounds. Italy was smarter than everyone took him to be. He was also sweet; the trait Gingy wished she had so badly that she spent as much time around him as she could just to learn. She wanted it so very badly, and in the time around him she made a valiant effort to keep in every pain-staking mood swing as to not frighten him away. She'd grown to love him, and yet she hated him all the same. She was jealous of him and who he was, and also who he was taken to be.

Gingy stood up and dusted off her long green dress. Her face was still wet with the tears she'd shed, and her mind still foggy with the feelings inside of her. When she was in this state she could think the most rationally, but her decisions never got her any good. It took all of her effort to think clearly enough to lie down upon her bed.

She looked to the window, and as she tried to focus her hair turned to a strawberry blonde color as her eyes shifted to emerald. She smiled the silliest of smiles.

Her eyes locked on what appeared to her in the windowsill, a pair of rocks with big, black eyes and taped-on string mouths. The shadowy figures weren't there to anyone but her; Gingy's special friends that would never judge her.

"Seamus, Quinn!" she said to them in a whisper. "Oh, how I've missed you so."

As she stared at them her eyes slowly began to drift shut. She'd cried so much she felt as if she could sleep forever, and at the moment an eternal sleep didn't seem too bad.

Finally her mind could rest.

That is, until the next day.

And the next.

And the next.


End file.
